Tonight Will Be a Memory Too
by Ghostcat3000
Summary: (or, Jess Day's First Sex Dream About Nick Miller) A night alone in front of the TV used to be very different in #4D. Written for a "first time" prompt that I was too late to sign up for. Takes place after "Tinfinity". This is my first story in this fandom. I do not own these characters. Rated M.


It had been a slow day in the classroom. The kind where no one says a word and in an attempt to break the silence, she finds herself asking, waaaay too loudly, if anyone had any plans for the break. Anyone? Anyone? Break? No? Nope. Afterwards, she held office hours and used the time to catch up on grading her students' latest hand-ins: the Weekend Adventures of the Cloned Unicorn (C+), The Garbageman with a Secret (B) or the Woman Who is Dissatisfied with Her Local Supermarket (A, surprisingly). She hadn't realized it but she'd been doodling something on the margins of one of the papers; a pair of lips. With a shriek, she throws her pencil across the room, attracting the attention of the school custodian, who peeks into the room, trashcan in hand. "Sorry, Pavel! Just a tic! Happens in threes!" She flings a notepad across the room. Then another pencil. "See?" She gives him an exaggerated shrug and a dry, only slightly demented sounding laugh. He ducks back out, mumbling under his breath in Polish, words that loosely translate to "never trust strange pale singing women".

Later, when she gets home carrying her overly heavy tote bag of collected journals and a book on crocheting she picked up at the bookstore, she finds him alone watching TV in the dark. He lifts his beer up in greeting and in response, she feels that new, but rapidly becoming familiar, nervousness tingling throughout her body. She goes into her room as quickly as possible. Only to find herself back out in the living room moments later, after fixing her hair in the mirror, running an internal monologue about this is my home too and I want a tea and I am entitled to relaxation and why can t I watch TV and put my feet up and his mouth and his hands and oh. Ooh. Make your tea, sit down, cross your ankles, act normal, don t think about his hands, don t think about his mouth. It's only Nick. The one who doesn't understand "the concept of yogurt" and says things like 'Hey Pal!' when he's mad.

"Jess." His voice is so soothing, It's a little rough but sweet. Like getting licked in the face by a kitten. Hmmm. Kittens.

"Yeahmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Just tired."

He takes a swig of his Heisler and stares at her. He licks his lips. UGH. What does he want? Why did I come out here? Him and his face. His sleeves rolled up like he was about to get some work done. He should get to work on her, know what I'm sayin'? Wait WHAT. She tries to focus on the screen. Ingrid Bergman's eyes go wide as the lights dim.

"Do you know this one? I think I came into it too late for it to make sense."

He bites his lower lip and waits for her answer. God, he's attractive. When did this start? She used to be able to look at his face and not catalog its hotness. No! Don't look at his mouth. She tries not to look him directly in the eyes either, thinks that might be weird so she focuses on one eye, which gets confusing so she switches to the other eye before finally settling to a spot by his ear. He turns around to look behind him.

"Is there something "

"Yes. I know it." She clears her throat. "It s good. It s really good. You should watch it because...you'll like it."

"SO is she actually crazy?" He leans forward, puts his beer down and rubs his hands together. "I want to know if it's worth my sticking it out."

"Come on Nick! I can t tell you that?! I'm not going to spoil the whole movie for you just because you can't commit to watching it."

"Why not?"

"Because that's so...stupid. And lazy. And not worthy of you."

"Okay Miss Day. Thanks?"

He laughs, then she laughs and she doesn t know why they re laughing but it feels nice. Like before the hallway, before he grabbed her, when it was safe to rest her head on his shoulder. When he was just a grumpy boy who was a really good friend, instead of a modern day Rhett Butler not giving a damn all over her mouth. He leans over suddenly and says, "Hey."

Her eyes widen. He reaches out and grabs her ankle. Ooh boy, that does something unexpected and she tries not to show it in her hands. His fingers are cool from the beer, she wasn t expecting that either. He scoots closer to her. She tries to remember to breathe. Left eye. Right eye. Ear. Forehead. Mouth. Her lips part involuntarily.

"Hey. You sure you're okay? You seem frazzled lady. Let me give you the ole Nick Miller special."

"What?" Keep your face neutral, she thinks. Sound breezy. "What is it?" She said, breezily.

He cracks his knuckles theatrically and wiggles his eyebrows at her.

"Only the best foot rub in L.A.!"

She laughs. Again with the breezy. She does some sort of awkward, fist holding up her chin look, which doesn't work without a surface really so she puts her other arm underneath for balance. Still looks strange. She can play this off. She can do this! He quirks his eyebrow at her.

"You're so weird."

"Yeah, well..." She's at a loss. "Go ahead." she says, in a way that sounds like more of a challenge than she meant it to. (WHAT IS SHE DOOOOING?)

For a moment they just look at each other.

"Okay weirdo. You won t regret it."

He scoots over some more until her feet are in his lap. He slides her flats off.

"What the hell are these?"

"Umm. Shoe liners."

"Oookay. Add that to the list of ladies stuff I just don t get."

He flicks them off onto the floor and something about that action makes her start to pulsate. She s got a serious lady boner and for once she is so, so glad she s a girl.

(Flashback to a classic Jess and Nick fight circa 2011:

"That just doesn t happen. That is not a thing."

"YES, it is a thing. An actual thing that happens to ladies."

"NO, it does not, that s not how it works."

"How do you know? You don't have the parts. "

"THAT S RIGHT I AM A MAN, I HAVE MAN PARTS, PARTS THAT ACTUALLY GET BONERED."

"And I have *vagina*" (The last word is sung, cueing a groan from Winston who quickly grab his keys and makes his way out the door to watch the playoffs elsewhere thank you very much. Who knows where Schmidt was that night. Probably Hot Yoga.) "...and I can tell you, it happens"!

"VAGINAS DO NOT GET BONERS. (Terse silence, much crossing of arms) Okay, fine, during arousal, there might be some changes down there -OH MY GOD why am I having this conversation- but women do. not. get. BONERS."

"Yes. They. DO."

"That is NOT A BONER, IT'S SOMETHING ELSE!"

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW? YOU HAVEN T SEEN MINE. YOU DON T KNOW WHAT IT DOES!"

"WHAT?!"

"YOU CANNOT STOP ME FROM DECLARING MY LADY BONER!"

"THAT JUST THAT JUST MAKES NO DAMN SENSE JESSICA. "

"LADY BONERS UNITE!"

With that she turned and stalked off, fist raised in the air, leaving him with his stupid face, those stupid eyes and his stupid soft, soft faded maroon t-shirt that she always has to stop herself from petting, even then. Even back then. STUPID.

She should ve known.)

"Ooooh." She groaned. "Sorry. That was loud."

"No, that s good. Positive feedback!"

It feels great. So, so great. And right. She's too tired to think much about how natural it feels. Her eyelids feel heavy on her face. It's like a giant, amazing flannel patterned wave washing over her. Old Spice shaving cream warm on his face against her face good. She can practically taste it.

"Nick." She stutters out.

"Yup? Too hard? Or do you want me to go harder? I can go harder."

Harder. Huh. THAT'S IT. Now, Jessica Day is a clumsy sorta gal, but somewhere in there, is the stealth and grace of a lioness and that is what comes out in that moment. She whips her feet off of his lap and pounces, straddling him, kissing those lips before they can say anything else. After a moment, once she realizes he's not moving at all, she stops, opens her eyes and sees him looking right at her, his hands up in the air. She sits back. He keeps his hands in the air. She makes a gun fingers and points her imaginary pistols at him. "Stick em up." She laughs nervously, he keeps staring at her. It s unnerving. His eyes are so dark. She sees herself reflected back in them. She may have screwed up. Damn Lil Jess and her excitement! Damn Nick Miller and his mouth! Before she can move off Nick s lap and run away to her room and never come out again, his hands unfreeze and slide down her back to her hips, then back up her sides, his thumbs tracing her ribcage. He leans in, lowers his head so that she instinctively does also and just melts into her. He kisses her slowly, so slowly. She simultaneously wants to shut down her brain so she can just give into it unthinkingly AND keep a thorough technical record of what makes it so AMAZING so she can replay it, now and forever, like the musical Cats. He is holding her back a bit, deliberately keeping the pace leisurely and it makes her feel completely crazy. This is the same guy she s seen yell at the microwave for not heating up his burrito fast enough. Like, actually yelling at TIME. How can that person be the same one who is nibbling at the corner of her mouth and rubbing her neck like the day doesn't contain minutes. He tilts her head back gently, his thumb stroking the side of her face and deepens that kiss. He sits up a bit so that their bodies are much closer than before. She can feel him under his jeans and instinctively she grinds down, which causes him to groan into her mouth. His stubble scratches her face as he turns away, whispering hotly in her ear. "Bad girl." He lifts up her skirt and spanks her.

She stops breathing for a second. Oh boy.

"Where are the guys?" She manages to rasp out. Better be clear about this now rather than later when she's got her legs hooked around his neck and OH MY GOD, WHO IS SHE?

"Winston s at work." He slips his hand under her skirt and finds her underwear. He's got a talented thumb. A veeeery talented thumb.

"What about Schmidt?"

"At some product launch? Who cares. Do you care? Stand up."

She does. And in doing so, answers his question.

"Good. Me too." Still seated, he slides to the edge of the couch, so that he's directly in front of her. He's gets her skirt rolled up to her waist and and then his fingers push the flimsy cotton fabric of her underwear aside like it was no thing, no thing at all.

"You are so wet."

Sam said porn star stuff like that all the time and it always made her giggle with excitement. Like it was a part she was playing, a new role, big girl Jess with her hot stuff boyfriend. Nick makes it sound so different. Like something dark and serious and it unlocks her somehow. She is herself, she is no other and she's being opened, like he's been opening her all this time and she didn't even realize. He looks up at her and repeats himself.

And with that he sticks a finger in slowly. Then another. Then a third.

She can hear the hum of the TV and a single sad car honk outside. He leans over and starts using his mouth as well, his tongue flickering against her. She moves her hips against his fingers, against his lips, until they re both working on the same rhythm. He is so good at this. How did he get so good? She can t think, she can t think. Everything is building really quickly. Suddenly there is a loud crash in the hallway. He doesn't stop what he's doing, she doesn't stop moving, the crash gets louder. He pulls his fingers out abruptly and she mewls.

"No, no, no."

"Schmidt."

"No, no, no."

But it's too late, even without him, she's too far gone. She falls apart. Sensation ripples throughout her body and her hips buck uselessly, chasing the feeling.

"Schmidt."

She covers her eyes with her forearms.

"Stop saying that Nick. He's not here. It's just the dog."

"Schmidt. You're going to wake her up."

Her eyes snap open. She looks around in a panic. Her legs are on Nick's lap and he looks at her with concern. A baseball game is on the TV.

"Shhh Jess. It's okay. It's just Schmidt. Go back to sleep."

"I don't even know why she's sleeping out here. This is a living room with a kitchen, a public area. I already put up with one dummy who can't make it to his own room to fall asleep, now I have to deal with TWO? Unacceptable! When a man has to whisk, he will whisk." Which Schmidt does, loudly.

She looks down at herself, her clothes are still on. She can still feel the echo of her orgasm in her limbs. She catches Nick looking at her curiously.

"Sorry. I told him to be quiet. He's being a jerk."

She pulls her legs off of him and sits up. "How long was I out?" This is not the question she really wants to ask.

"About an hour. That must've been a crazy dream. You were talking."

Her face goes red, her fingers shake a little bit as she smoothes down her blouse. "What did I say?"

She waits.

"Well...you said 'Meow' mostly. Like, a lot. You must really want a damn cat. You know Schmidt's allergic otherwise I'd tell you to get yourself one. I've seen some really cute ones in the alley. One of them sorta reminds me of you. Giant eyes, won't shut up, kind of a...pest." He trails off, transfixed by some game time shenanigans.

She can't keep sitting here, she is way too freaked out. She mutters a thanks for the massage, slips her feet into her flats and picks up her discarded foot hose. She scurries to her room and finds the least sexy book she can find. She reads it for too long, past midnight, past his shuffling by her door around 2:00 a.m., pausing and then entering his room, past any chance of ever just being Nick Miller's platonic friend ever again. 


End file.
